It Was For This Reason
by littlemisscass
Summary: Done with her final year at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger is afraid of the future. Following a fight with Ron, her now ex-boyfriend, she seeks solace with firewhiskey in the Astronomy Tower. Yet when she finds herself alone with Draco Malfoy, she realises that he isn't as bad as she thought. What better way to forget her problems than with alcohol and a very attractive man?
1. And Then He Kissed Me

It was an odd feeling, being done with school. I'd never considered the finality of the end of it all. I knew that I wanted to become a Healer, I knew that I'd continue to spend the majority of my free time reading and the rest with Harry and Ron. But I had never considered the fact that when all was said and done, exams were over and the end of year feast had begun, I would be worried.

I had known the answer to every single question on the Potions exam and I was quite confident that I would receive O's in all of my other subjects as well. I had been accepted into the Healer training program based on recommendations and well before any other student this year. But I was afraid. I was afraid of a future outside the walls of Hogwarts. I had helped Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, battled Voldemort and the Death Eaters, yet I was afraid of the future.

It was for this reason, and the fact that I'd had a rather huge fight with Ron that ended in our breaking up, that I found myself sitting at the top of the Astronomy Tower, gulping down more firewhiskey than I'd drunk before.

I loved Ron, I did. But he didn't really understand why I wouldn't want to spend all my time listening to him regale his stories of the war and of Quidditch matches. Merlin forbid I might not like Quidditch and flying, which I do not. Whatsoever.

It was for this reason, and the fact that I wasn't really listening, that I missed the patter of footsteps and the creaking of a door, so I was utterly surprised when two legs appeared beside me.

Glancing up, I was met with the smirk of Draco Malfoy. In the moonlight, he was lovely. He was always attractive, with his ice blonde hair, piercing grey eyes and commanding height. Yet, he was now illuminated; a halo spread around his hair, his irises darker than usual. Malfoy was very attractive indeed.

* * *

I had never spent much time with Malfoy. He'd always been on the outskirts of my existence; a brooding, charismatic Slytherin that habitually got into fights with my friends and occasionally teased me about my hair. I'd hit him once, in third year, but we hadn't had much contact since that point in time, come to think of it.

"Granger," He inclined his head respectfully. "Might I ask what you're doing up here?"

I pursed my lips. He seemed almost... gentleman-like and polite.

"Getting drunk," I stated matter-of-factly.

Raised eyebrows were the only response I seemed to receive, however, after a few seconds of careful scrutiny, he lowered himself to the ground beside me, grabbed the bottle from my clutches and took a healthy gulp.

"Why?" He asked once he'd returned the firewhiskey to me.

"My ex-boyfriend is an arse."

Malfoy merely smiled understandingly. I suppose he did have a bit of an old vendetta against the prick. "Too true, my dear."

We spent a good deal of time in silence, with only the sounds of the castle in the distance.

"You know..." He turned to me and I realised we were much closer than I thought we had been. Barely a foot lay between his outstretched leg and mine, our hands even closer, laying on the floor. "...if you really wanted to piss off Weasel... I have an idea."

"Mmhm?" I took another swig, nodding for him to continue as I placed the bottle on the ground farther away, to discourage myself from drinking much more. My judgement was seriously impaired if I was having a semi-nice conversation with Malfoy, of all people.

As I turned back, I found him inches away, murmuring, "This." And then he kissed me.


	2. Soon

As our mouths tangled hungrily, I could feel his hands sliding away from my waist; one down to my arse, gently pulling me closer, and the other up to my breast, which it massaged softly.

I groaned into Malfoy's mouth, arching my back towards his hand and his body. I straddled him as he sat with his back against the wall, slowly grinding on top of him. My hands tangled in his smooth hair, grasping it as if I couldn't let go. His own moans met my lips as we continued to kiss.

Pulling away for breath, Malfoy sighed. "Fuck, Granger."

He ripped my shirt open, showering kisses down my chest and stomach, and grinned as he started unbuttoning my jeans. I shivered from his touch, it was like a fire had ignited inside of me, but managed to pull of his own shirt. As I ogled him, in all his toned perfection, he freed me from my pants and him from his own, and began kissing me again.

We lay on the ground, entangled by our limbs and our lips, as we clutched each other hard, wanting to be closer, wanting each other.

I had been afraid of the future, I had been bored of Ron. This was neither boring nor fearful and it was exactly what I needed.

As he shifted on top of me, thrusting against my underwear-clad hips, I moaned. The heat between us was electric; I could feel it moving throughout my body, exacerbated in the spots where our skin touched. Malfoy's lips traced a lazy line down my neck, whispering my name 'Hermione' instead of 'Granger' between each peck.

Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy.

My eyes flew open.

This was a mistake. Sure, it felt marvellous and it took my mind off my problems... but it was Draco Malfoy.

It was the boy who'd called me 'mudblood' innumerable times. It was the boy who had been my best friend's enemy since first year.

It was a mistake.

I pulled away from him, his mouth removed from where it was sucking on my neck, "I have to go."

Malfoy actually looked shocked. And disappointed. But I barely registered the emotion as I stood to grab my clothes. I knew my hair probably looked like a bird's nest and I might get a detention for being out of the common room too late, but I honestly didn't care. I needed to get out... before something more happened.

Draco Malfoy was a bad person. A very bad person. I repeated the mantra in my head as I backed away from the boy that was still frozen, mostly naked, on the floor.

As I turned away from the almost heartbreaking sight, messily dressed, he murmured, so quietly that I barely heard it, "Of course. Back to Weasley. Away from the Death Eater. It's not as if I stood a chance anyway."

I frowned, kneeling down beside where Malfoy sat, head bent in his hands.

"You know that's not actually true. Ron and I are done. Yes, I'm going. I've forgiven you for being a Death Eater... I think most people have, truthfully. But I haven't forgiven you for calling me what you did for so long. You're a decent person, Malfoy, I think. But before I forgive you and before I, Merlin forbid, let you kiss me again, you have to show me that. Please."

Stroking his silvery hair one last time, I returned to my spot by the door.

"I'll see you later, Malfoy."

He finally looked up, a smile easing onto his face, "Soon, Granger."


	3. Something Like This

[A/N: I was quite honestly not intending to continue this story... but because there was such a surprisingly wonderful response to my posting of this story, I thought I would add a few more (and longer) chapters. Not promo-ing or anything, but feel free to check out my other Dramione stories...]

* * *

_Martin McDougall, losses: One 5 foot by 7 foot garden shed, green corrugated iron. Three garden gnomes, Mongolian in origin. One son, three daughters._

Draco's eyes fluttered shut, his head falling to the table. Work was exhausting. The war had been over for a while, yet he still felt guilty for his family's part; that was why he worked much harder than he possibly ought to have. It did help with feelings of repentance, even if he had to deal each day with the losses of innocent people. He was in charge of recording the reparations requested of the Ministry, some of which still filtered in, more than a year into the post-Voldemort era. At least, that was how he and his mother considered it. An era free of the controlling bastard was one in which they were happy. Yes, they'd professed to support the cause, and they didn't _love_ muggleborns... but genocide was over-the-top. Almost anyone could concede that.

So, as he began to doze off, he thought nothing of it. Usually he would wake several hours later, at the point of impact, following an embarrassing topple from his swivel chair, and head home. Sometimes he might do a little more work. But when he woke the next morning, he was in a bed. A bed that most certainly wasn't his.

* * *

It was a queen-size bed with pale green sheets, the covers embroidered with flowers, Draco noticed upon closer inspection. Purple wallpaper covered the walls, meeting polished floorboards at their base. Bookshelves lined one wall, a door and a white armoire stood on another. He had no idea why one person needed that many books, especially in their bedroom. A large window and an attached seat rounded out the third side. It was a surprisingly nice set-up.

"You're awake!"

His eyes flew to the now open door, surprise plastered onto his face at the person standing there.

"Granger?"

"...yes?"

The bookshelves now made a lot more sense. Hermione moved into the room, sinking into a small armchair in the corner, previously unnoticed.

"Why am I in your house?"

"You don't remember."

"I don't remember _what_?" His tone became worried.

"You were at the Ministry, working, I would assume. When I was on my way to see Ron, I found you on the carpet, your head bleeding."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Thanks, Granger."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed. "_What?_"

"Thank you."

"Right. Well, your head seems to be better, and your concussion will be gone; enough time has passed for that."

"How long was I out?"

"Three days."

The ex-Slytherin groaned, "I missed that many days of work?"

"That's all you're worried about? You certainly have changed. You didn't even ask if you'd sustained permanent brain damage or hurt your precious good looks in the fall."

"Did I?"

"No," she cracked a grin. Draco laughed.

* * *

"So you ended up not breaking it off with Weasley?"

"How would you... oh. Uh, no, I did."

He looked vaguely pleased. Hermione was perched on the edge of the bed, no longer as distant. Doctor-patient discussions were long over, and they were catching up on each other's lives since Hogwarts, though only a year had passed.

"Then why were you visiting the Weasel?"

"We're friends! I would have thought you'd understand friendship, Malfoy."

"I do, I was just wondering." Draco offered a reassuring, yet uncharacteristic, smile.

"Nothing to wonder about. I heard about you and Astoria, we're all very happy for you." Hermione's smile, and pleasant tone, was forced.

"Me and her? _I'm_ not happy for me. She's such a prissy little chit. My mother's perfect daughter-in-law and my obligatory wife."

"Why-" She was quickly cut off.

"Her sister told her mother that we'd... uh... spent some time together. They spoke to Mother and, now, we're supposed to marry. Not my cup of tea."

Hermione frowned, "That's not exactly fair. What's wrong with experimenting? Why should you have to settle this early in life?"

"I would like to see you tell that to my mother. It's a nice sentiment though."

"Well, what would you rather do?"

She was transported back to a night all too long ago, as he lifted a hand, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes. A finger trailed her cheekbone, his thumb tracing her jaw. It was instinct, a reaction to reminiscent actions, that made her lift her own hand, interlocking her fingers with his, and slowly move forward until she could feel his breath on her cheek.

"Something like this."

Draco's lips pressed hotly against hers.


End file.
